


when I behold, upon the night’s starred face, huge cloudy symbols of a high romance

by alfie_aurel



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 160 never happened apart from the first five minutes don't question me, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Script Format, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), THE TITLE IS KEATS AND IM SORRY, as well as rants about christmas films, christmas fic?? christmas eve is involved??, listen jon relies on the beholding to do maths and He's Valid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alfie_aurel/pseuds/alfie_aurel
Summary: Jon and Martin, after escaping from the Lonely, learning to how to be okay again.(aka what do you mean 160 happened)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78
Collections: Cowards Holiday Exchange 2019





	when I behold, upon the night’s starred face, huge cloudy symbols of a high romance

**Author's Note:**

> this is for Avery in the Cowards Holiday Exchange!! love you and happy holidays!!! <3

_Statement of The Archivist, regarding his relationship with Martin Blackwood, Assistant to Peter Lukas. Statement given 8th December 2018. Recorded direct from subject._

[A tape finishes playing - “Don’t worry. I know the way.”]

[Click]

ARCHIVIST:

That’s our story. I -- He’s gone. Lukas, I mean. I’ve searched, I’ve tried to see where he is, I can’t find him. I know, I know of all people I’m not infallible, but I know this. I killed him. I killed Peter Lukas. What else do I know? What _can_ I know?

Peter Lukas died on 30th November 2018. That is a fact. Daisy has disappeared. That is a fact. Basira’s not talking to me and Melanie escaped. Those are facts. I know them, I can quantify them - I haven’t heard from Basira in - god, must be a week? This is the empirical evidence, I see and understand their absence from my self-contained life, this is what I know without some perverse divine intervention. That was not a request. 

This is a supplemental, I should say what happened next. 

We made it back to the Panoptican in one piece. We made it back. I didn’t - still don’t, if I’m completely honest - understand what was happening in the Institute. How disturbingly fitting. All I saw were bloodstains, endless bloodstains, illuminated by flickering candles; all I could hear were screams piercing the silence of sirens in the distance. 

We made our way back to the Archive eventually, the flashlight quitting on us about an hour into our search. That was the last time I saw Basira - she was calling someone on her phone, yelling something about Daisy. From what I can gather, Daisy became - succumbed - became part of the Hunt. She chased after Julia and Trevor, and no-one’s heard from any of them since. 

Oh, speaking of - note for later: research those two. How the hell did they manage to get from America to the Archives, and who told them to attack now? It’s probably Eli - Jonah, but research never hurts. In most cases. 

We went back to my flat. To say it was a bit of a mess would be an understatement, but I didn’t want Martin to be alone. I couldn’t let him go. Not again. From what I can gather, I don’t think he went back to his flat at all whilst he worked for Lukas. Too many memories of tapping, squirmous shadows, if his nightmares and the stanzas of poetry I find on the kitchen table are anything to go by. Besides, it would obviously be safer if we stuck together. Yes, safer. 

Speaking of living situations, I should probably not say where we are now. I don’t know who’s listening anymore. I never truly have, I’ve been under surveillance from a body-hopping boss since I started at the Institute, but ever since we left London, I’ve felt detached from the world. Like I’m in a bubble, cocooned by useless observations and supplementals and endless, endless reams of tape. I don’t know if it’s the literal or just the metaphorical distance that’s causing it - I’ve always felt apart, but this, this is completely different. 

Martin’s helping, of course he is. He gave me a cup of tea right before I started recording, in a kitschy mug with cat-like blobs on it. I wonder what that pattern is doing in - here. Yes, here. It seems very out of place. But, I never did know anyone very well, did I. Wish I had changed that. 

Well, no use now. What’s past is - not prologue. No-one can rewrite their back catalogue of faults and accusations and conscious oblivities, no matter how much we wish we could. Even if I could, what would I change? Would I be able to bring myself to - God, I don’t even know - befriend Melanie? Talk to Tim? Ask Sasha not to - Nevermind. Don’t even think about it, Jon. It’s not worth it anymore. 

Right now, Martin’s having a nap in the next room. Either that or he’s writing some of his poetry. Did you know it’s actually really good? Bit too Keats-like for my personal taste, but it’s Martin, of course it’s like that. He read a few poems to me the other night whilst we were eating take-away on the sofa. It’s - it’s extremely endearing. He puts so much into them, every word chosen to mean something to him or -. Or to me, I suppose. Yes, to me. 

He’ll be down in a minute. 

I - I’m glad Martin’s here. Of all people. I don’t know what I’d do without him, if I’m honest. I wouldn’t be here at all without him. 

I don’t know who, or if anyone, is listening to this but you must know I - 

MARTIN:

Jon? Are you still recording?

ARCHIVIST:

No, of course I’m not. [Pause] Okay, maybe I am, but I was just finishing up! 

MARTIN:

Jon. 

ARCHIVIST:

I was! 

MARTIN:

Then explain the pile of statements right there, on the desk.

ARCHIVIST:

Those are - those are for organisation! Yes, I was just preparing, trying to figure out my set-up.

[Pause]

I was going to record until you came down, alright! I know you wanted to head into town later - 

MARTIN:

‘Later’ is now, Jon, it’s 4PM already! We need to buy food, and I need to get some service so I can text - are you still recording?

ARCHIVIST:

Uh - oh! I am. I should - [Click]

[END OF RECORDING]

* * *

_Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding his relationship with Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. Statement given 15th December 2018. Recorded direct from subject._

[Sounds of steps, getting slowly louder. Slow jazz music echoes in the background. It’s early morning.]

MARTIN:

[singing] _Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars, let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. In other words, hold my hand. In other words, darling, kiss -_ Jon? Jon, what are you doing there?

You’re asleep. Good. You don’t do that enough.

[Martin sits down on the sofa. The music plays on, then scratches to a halt. There is silence.]

Surprised you haven’t woken up yet, if I’m honest. You’re usually up by now, recording or reading. I guess I should use the peace and quiet to get my own reading done. It’s Keats - I know, I know what you say, but some of it can be alright! And this one - this one is quite apt.

[Martin reads] _When I have fears that I may cease to be_

_Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,_

_Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,_

_Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;_

_When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,_

_Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,_

_And think that I may never live to trace_

_Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;_

_And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,_

_That I shall never look upon thee more,_

_Never have relish in the faery power_

_Of unreflecting love—then on the shore_

_Of the wide world I stand alone, and think_

_Till love and fame to nothingness do sink._

“Then on the shore of the wide world I stand alone.”

  
Do I regret leaving the Lonely? Do I regret following you home? It was nice, peaceful, in the Lonely. The white fog and the subtle sea, the static of separation and disconnection. I felt safe there, like I could watch the millenia pass by unblinking. It would be a lie if I didn’t want to return, for everything to just be over. Lukas is dead, but there’s more of that family. The Lonely lives on. It would be easy, I suppose. I could just fade away.

No, I’ve made my choice. I left, I followed you, and now I’m here. I’m still here. 

I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, back then. God, it was all so bloody simple. Everything was just ‘office gossip’ until Nikola, I suppose. Or maybe when - nevermind. There’s no use for nostalgia anymore. What’s done is done, and we must go forward! No - no, that sounds awful.

I don’t know what happens next. I suppose we just have to wait until the Hunters find us, or Annabelle makes her move, or whatever cosmic entity still remaining kills us first. We could stay here until we die. I think I’m alright with that - yes, I’m alright with that. Just you and me. 

I should go. I’ll leave you to sleep. I love - good morning, Jon. I’ll see you soon. 

[Sounds of steps moving away. The music starts up again - _Hide your heart from sight, lock your dreams at night, it could happen to you._ The steps move upstairs with the creaking of a staircase.]

[The tape continues running, silent except for the music, until there is sounds of rustling blankets and yawning - it’s Jon waking up. He stands up, and starts walking towards the kitchen.]

JON:

Oh, guess I left the tape on last night. I wonder what it picked up. [Click]

[END OF RECORDING]

* * *

_Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding his relationship with Martin Blackwood. Statement given 20th December 2018. Recorded direct from subject._

JON:

There is no follow-up to Mx Caldwell’s statement. Partially because I don’t think there would be - encounters with the End always result in an ending, to say the least, and also since there was nothing else in the folder. And I have no signal. And the only books I’ve found in this cottage seem to be tribute books to the Archers, which I blatantly refuse to touch. 

Martin’s taken to using those books as coasters, which I think is the only acceptable use for them - the Archers has been going since 1951. 1951! That’s almost 60 years, and over 19,000 episodes. How she managed to listen to all of them, even allegedly, I’ll never begin to comprehend. That’s - hm. 247,000 minutes, which is roughly 4000 hours, which is 172 days of listening to a ‘country drama.’ Eugh. 

MARTIN:

I didn’t know you were that good at maths! 

JON:

I’m not - oh. Fuck you, Beholding. [Pause] I really do hate this.

MARTIN:

What do you mean? 

JON:

It’s just tiring. What happens next, the role we play in that - I want to change everything, I want to stay here. I would like things to remain the same, but the likelihood of that happening? You know as well as I do that eventually another apocalypse will happen, and we’ll have to stop it. Fear doesn’t stop for anyone or anything, least of all love. 

MARTIN:

What - what do you want, Jon?

JON:

[A long pause] I want to remain here. With you. Much as I hate the lack of signal, books, the complete separation from the outside world, you’re more than worth it. 

Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. [Sounds of Jon getting up from a chair] Do you want a cup of tea?

MARTIN:

No, stay. Stay with me. Besides, that’s my job!

JON: 

[Jon sits back down] Of - of course. Always. Always, Martin. If you’ll have me.

MARTIN:

Jon. I followed you out of the Lonely, followed you here. For better or worse, I’ve always been yours. 

JON:

Oh. I - I’m yours as well, if you needed the confirmation. [A long pause.] I know it's a worst case scenario, but I can’t promise I’ll always be - be me. Who knows what the Beholding has planned, or what will happen to us. I’m sorry, Martin. You deserve so much more. 

MARTIN: 

No, stop. Jon. We’ve all changed, can’t you see that? I used to be so scared of change - still am, if I’m honest, but change would mean problems would mean a new situation that I couldn’t deal with. But with you, with you, there’s no doubt. 

JON:

But - 

MARTIN:

I know you say you’re full of doubt. Neither of us knows what will happen next, but I’m staying by your side. 

Do you mind if I turn the recorder off? We - I want to be alone. [Click]

[END OF RECORDING]

* * *

_Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding his relationship with Martin Blackwood. Statement never given. (It’s Christmas Eve.)_

[Sounds of rustling and movement - they’re putting up decorations. Quiet Christmas music echoes in the background.]

MARTIN:

Jon, where the _fuck_ is the tinsel?

JON: 

I thought you had it?

MARTIN:

No, you’re the one who bought them!

JON:

But you brought the box in?

MARTIN:

That doesn’t mean I know where I put it!

JON:

Fine, we’ll find the tinsel later. What else do we need? 

MARTIN:

Crackers, maybe? Food is in the oven, mistletoe is hung up, I found a DVD of _Elf_ that we could watch -

JON:

We’re not watching _Elf._

MARTIN:

It’s a good film! But if you insist. What about _It’s A Wonderful Life?_

JON:

There’s a copy of that here? Not what I expected - always thought she would be more of a _Nightmare Before Christmas_ type of person. I can’t say I’ve watched that, Mar - 

MARTIN:

Right, movie’s solved. Go sit down, I’ll get us some snacks. 

JON:

What about the decorations?

MARTIN:

This film is more important - go sit down! It’s Christmas Eve!

[Jon sits down on the sofa. The music continues to play softly, until Martin returns to the living room, humming along with the music. He fiddles with the DVD player.]

JON:

You know, Mar, I’ve just realised something.

MARTIN:

What? 

JON:

I don’t care about the Archives anymore. I don’t need to research, or to record, or to study fear like some twisted doctor. 

I love you, Martin. I think I always have. 

[Martin sits down on the sofa. There is silence, aside from the music.]

MARTIN:

Oh - I’m supposed to respond, aren’t I. You already know my answer, and I think you have all along. Even if you’re not truly part of the Eye still, you must know. I love you, Jonathan Sims. I love you.

[The film begins, with bells chiming. It's a new day.]

[END OF RECORDING]


End file.
